Anomaly

My eyes blinked slowly as I took in the vastness of the city before me. Towering skyscrapers stretched as far as the eye could see, their silhouettes cutting against the sky.
The wind blew steadily, brushing against my skin and making my hair sway subtly. My golden eyes scanned the urban expanse, reflecting the lights and shadows of the landscape, but my face remained expressionless, wrapped in the same indifference as always.
The streets still looked like something straight out of hell. The chaos was only getting worse as the monsters that once merely wandered around had started attacking each other, leaving even more destruction in their wake.
Flames flickered among the rubble, the stench of burnt flesh and blood thick in the air—but none of it mattered to me. If anything, the fewer of those creatures left, the easier it would be to reach the building where the flower was. Either way, Arthur and Victor weren’t far from me, staying within my line of sight.
Like me, Arthur was also watching the city, his gaze drifting across the scene with a contemplative yet surprisingly calm expression. It was an unusual look for someone standing before what could very well be the end of the world—or something close to it.
Most people would be panicking. But not him. That almost unnatural calmness piqued my curiosity. Arthur had always had a habit of staying composed in extreme situations, but for some reason, this time, it felt even stranger.
With that thought in mind, I turned my eyes toward Arthur, who remained by my side. The movement was subtle, almost instinctive, as if I were searching for some kind of answer in his expression.
A moment later, a voice echoed clearly in my mind, articulating each word with precision: (Aren’t you... afraid?)
Arthur’s body tensed slightly as my thoughts reached his mind. A second later, his gaze met mine, his eyes reflecting something indecipherable.
With a smooth motion, he twirled his cane between his fingers, studying me in silence before shifting his gaze back to the city skyline.
I stayed where I was, waiting patiently for his answer, absentmindedly swinging my feet back and forth—my relaxed movements in stark contrast to the anticipation growing inside me.
"Even though I’ve heard your voice before, I still catch myself thinking about how much it contrasts with your appearance. It’s an interesting difference... but in a good way" Arthur remarked, a faint smirk appearing on his lips.
Honestly, I had never really known how my voice should sound to others. I can’t speak, and unlike what most people might assume, mental communication doesn’t let me hear my own voice. To be exact, the only way I can simulate something remotely close to a voice is by recalling the one I had before waking up in this body.
But I can say without hesitation: it doesn’t match my current form at all—and I don’t mean that in a good way. That’s why I’m sure that when others hear me, my voice must sound completely different from the one that echoes in my mind.
As I got lost in my own thoughts, Arthur continued, his tone carrying a reflective edge: "You asked if I feel fear... Honestly, that’s a hard question to answer"
I blinked, caught off guard by Arthur’s words. What did he mean it was hard to answer? Did he really not know what fear was? That seemed impossible... right? As I tried to process the thought, Arthur, oblivious to my doubts, kept going as if his response wasn’t something worth questioning.
"I’ve witnessed countless phenomena, and through my research on conceptual virtues, I’ve uncovered secrets that defy sanity—secrets that could drive any rational person into complete madness. I won’t deny that I feel fear. At the end of the day, I still value my own life. But the truth is... I know there are things far worse"
Arthur spoke with a distant look in his eyes, almost vacant, as if reliving every unsettling discovery in his mind while staring at me. I blinked, mulling over his words, trying to grasp exactly what he meant. But no matter how much I thought about it, I had no clue.
Was there really something worse than the end of the world? Maybe he was talking about something completely different, but in the end, I had no way of knowing. And to be honest, I wasn’t interested enough to ask. As I pondered for a moment, a quiet sigh sounded behind me. Instinctively, I turned toward the source of the sound and saw Victor approaching with steady steps.
His expression was serious, and as he reached us, he fixed his gaze on the horizon before finally breaking the silence: "I just confirmed that there are still energy signatures at the location where we last found the golden flower. Based on the readings, that energy is continuously increasing. From what I can tell, right now, the accumulated amount would be enough to wipe this entire city off the map"
Well... I can’t say that was unexpected. I knew that flower was dangerous, though, for some reason, deep down, I had never really believed it. But finding out it had the power to erase an entire city? That not only raised its threat level beyond anything I had imagined, but it also forced me to confront the sheer, absolute terror it represented.
That didn’t change the fact that we still had to figure out how to reach the building where the flower was. And once we got there... well, I could only wait and see what would happen. To be honest, it’s not like I had many options beyond that.
There wasn’t a manual guiding me or a screen popping up in front of my eyes whenever I was unsure of what to do. It would be nice if things worked that way, but reality was far less forgiving.
"The only question left is how exactly we’re going to reach the flower. Honestly, if we try to make our way through the streets as they are now, it’ll be a death sentence" Victor said beside me, his expression deep in thought, reflecting the weight of the situation.
The next moment, both Arthur and Victor’s eyes turned toward me. Even without looking at them, I could feel exactly what that silent exchange meant. I remained still, keeping my usual indifferent expression, before slowly rising to my feet and fixing my gaze on the horizon.
The tension hung in the air as Arthur and Victor exchanged glances, confused by my reaction. But without questioning, they mimicked my gesture and turned their gazes toward the vast expanse ahead of us.
Seconds later, a dense, dark fog began to form, creeping silently in our direction. Its movement was slow—almost deliberate—and as it drew closer, its darkness became even sharper, swallowing what little light remained around us. Despite the resemblance, I knew this wasn’t my Alter Ego—it was still soaring over the city, steering the monsters away to different points.
Earlier, when I visualized the building where the flower was, a strange premonition hit me, as if, somehow, I knew we shouldn’t go there at that moment. It was an instinctive certainty, impossible to ignore. However, now that feeling had vanished completely—most likely an interference from my Alter Ego.
Either way, this black mist was nothing more than a small fraction of my Alter Ego that had broken off. How did I know that? It was instinct—a certainty I simply felt.
It would be enough to guide us to the building, but its strength was insignificant compared to my Alter Ego in its entirety. That severely limited what I could do. Even so, I believed it would suffice to get us there, as long as nothing unexpected happened.
However, there was something I wasn’t admitting, something I was reluctant to acknowledge. A persistent pain pounded in my chest—odd, considering I didn’t even have a heart. Yet, the sensation was there, throbbing, suffocating.
And every time my mind drifted back to the little girl—the one carrying an anomaly within her—the pain grew even more intense, as if something inside me twisted in silent agony.
Guilt consumed me—overwhelming, inescapable guilt. My rational mind insisted that I wasn’t responsible, that I had no reason to feel this way. And yet, something inside me disagreed—as if a nonexistent heart was crying out otherwise.
It was an unsettling feeling, almost like a voice whispering amid the chaos of my thoughts, trying to force me to remember. The more I tried to push it away, the stronger it became, pressing down on me with growing urgency, as if the truth was right there—just out of reach—but hidden behind an impenetrable fog.
(I need to remember… I can’t let them suffer again. Not after everything)
A thought cut through my mind, and for the first time in a long while, my eyes widened—a reaction so rare it almost felt unnatural. My face, usually expressionless by nature, seldom betrayed any emotion, as if my features were carved from stone. And yet, that thought had been strong enough to shatter that barrier.
But... who exactly were “they” that I had just referred to? The thought felt strange, almost forced, as if, for a brief moment, I simply knew I had to say it—without actually understanding why. The sensation was unsettling, like an idea had been planted in my mind without my permission. I had no idea what was happening, but I knew one thing for sure—standing still wouldn’t get me anywhere.
The girl slept, but her consciousness remained awake. She remembered everything that had happened before she drifted off, as if her mind had never truly rested. Her body was immersed in a warmth that wrapped around her from every direction. For a human, it would feel like floating in a jacuzzi, but for her, it was more than simple comfort—it was familiar, almost nostalgic.
Here, she felt at ease, as if she had returned to a place that had always been hers. It was like the old days, when she was surrounded by an intense, warm, and welcoming light. But as her awareness deepened into the sensation, she noticed something unsettling.
The brightness around her was so blinding that it started to bother her, pressing down on her as if trying to push her out of the very space that had once felt so safe.
Her memories from that time were hazy, clouded, as if they belonged to a distant dream. Yet, among them all, there was one memory that remained vivid, untouched by time.
It was a precious fragment of her past—something she would never allow to be lost, even if everything else faded away. No matter how many years passed or how blurred her other recollections became—this one would remain. And if she ever felt it slipping away, she would do whatever it took to reclaim it.
So much time had passed—long enough for her very existence to feel insignificant—since a promise had been made to Zentharys. Her true name was meant to be remembered, to be spoken again. It was a name that Zentharys would never forget. Or at least, that’s what she believed.
And yet, when they finally reunited, she didn’t recognize her. A cold shock ran through her, like an icy shiver. That was impossible... or it should have been. An unexpected situation—a betrayal of fate itself. But then, the words that “She” had spoken echoed in her mind. "This could happen" That’s what She had said. She didn’t correct herself. The weight in her chest was suffocating—because “She” hadn’t merely suggested the possibility. "She was certain of it"
"This was supposed to happen" And it did. The girl hadn’t cared—or at least, she believed she didn’t need to. She thought it would never happen. But it did. And it hurt. Much more than she had expected. Pain was something she had learned during her time living as a human—something familiar, almost natural. But this pain… this was different.
Being forgotten wounded her in a way that no other suffering ever had—far beyond anything she had endured in her human life. She didn’t want to face reality. She only wanted to keep sleeping, to sink into silence, clinging to the illusion that all of this was just a dream.